


Into the air

by temporali



Series: Tumblr drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e12 Faith, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporali/pseuds/temporali
Summary: Dean won’t let Sam see it, but he’s scared shitless. The doctor might have given him a few months, but it doesn’t feel like he’ll last that long. He can die at any moment, really. Fall asleep now and never wake up.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Tumblr drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043130
Kudos: 78





	Into the air

Dean is going to die.

Right now he’s lying in one of the queen sized motel beds, watching the TV on mute since he couldn’t stand the prickly sound. Sam is by the table, searching on his computer and in books for things that Dean doesn’t dare to believe in. A way out of his doomed destiny. Sam’s ridiculous hair is hanging in front of his eyes, and Dean feels a sudden urge to tuck it behind his ears, sliding his finger down his cheekbone and…

He shudders and snaps out of the thought, pulls Sam’s sweater tighter around him. Yeah, Sam’s sweater, since apparently “layering is essential for staying warm, Dean”. It doesn’t help much. His source of coldness doesn’t come from the outside. It’s a side effect on his heart attack, according to the doctor, and Dean hates it. It makes him feel even weaker. But he doesn’t have the heart to tell Sam about it. 

Dean won’t let Sam see it, but he’s scared shitless. The doctor might have given him a few months, but it doesn’t feel like he’ll last that long. He can die at any moment, really. Fall asleep now and never wake up. 

After a while he actually falls asleep, his body too heavy and tired to fight it anymore. And after what feels like only an hour or two (but must be more since the motel room is completely dark), something wakes him up.

If he’d been in his usual shape, he would have been up and at whatever woke him up, whatever possible threat that could’ve entered the Winchester’s warded bubble, but in his current state he stays put.

It doesn’t take long to discover what woke him up. 

Sam is sitting on the edge of his bed and the backside of his index finger is caressing Dean’s cheekbone. It sounds like he’s crying. Dean can feel his heart clench, and it’s not an aftermath on his heart attack.

Dean tries to keep breathing as if he’s asleep, and Sam doesn’t seem to have noticed Dean’s awakening. His finger vanishes from Dean’s face, and when Dean dares to open one eye to peek up on him, Sam’s resting his face in his palms and Dean thinks that it might be time to let him know that he is awake.

”Sam.”

The broken silence startles Sam, who’s red rimmed eyes meets his own. Dean scoots over to the side of the bed. Sam suddenly rises, hazel eyes flicking over the room and Dean can see how insecure he is after being caught in such a low guarded moment.

”Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

”Nuh-uh, none of that,” he says and lifts the comforter a little, cringing when the cold air slips in beneth it. ”C’mon.”

Sam is a little hesitant when he takes place in the bed, eyes guarded as if Dean would suddenly change his mind and shove him away. He’s only in his boxers, and a T-shirt (probably went to bed and couldn’t sleep) and Dean should feel weirded out by this. But he doesn’t. Instead he lays his head on Sam’s shoulder, and his right hand on his warm chest. Sam is like a goddamn furnace, and Dean needs all the warmth he can get. He can feel Sam’s arms embracing him and instead of feeling trapped, Dean melts into his brothers body, like there’s nowhere else he belongs.

A sob breaks through Sam’s body, and he buries his face in Deans hair. Sam cries, and Dean lets him cling onto him for all he’s worth. He swallows down his own tears, tries to stay strong for his little brother, soothe him even though he knows it’s pointless. 

Dean has no idea what awaits him on the other side, and the anxiety he’s been trying to repress ever since he recieved his death sentence from the doctor, rises to the surfaces. Before Dean has the chance to stop himself he clenches his fist in Sam’s shirt, not unlike the act of a child. He turns his face into Sam’s T-shirt to try to hide the emerging tears and breathes in the smell of him, god that Sammy scent of old books, cinnamon and a lingering hint of teenage rebel. And then he just stops holding it back. 

So what if he lets himself be vulnerable for once, why the hell does it even matter when he may be dead tomorrow anyways?

“I’m not gonna let you die Dean,” Sam says with a thick voice.

Dean wishes he could believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> i found like three paragraphs of this the other night and decided to write it, hope it's not too bad 
> 
> you can find me as bananashee on tumblr  
> xoxo


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